264 The Price of the Arch Gate
Thunder crashed overhead, shaking the foundations of my office as rain fell in a heavy downpour. Tao Long’s hand shot out, clutching the collar of my robes with a desperation that trembled beneath his fury. He shoved me backward, the impact slamming my body against the wall with a dull thud. His draconic strength pressed down like iron chains, not enough to crush me, but enough to remind me that even as my inferior, the bloodline of a dragon that flowed within him was nothing to scoff at. I didn’t resist. I let him pour out his rage, knowing full well it wasn’t me he was truly angry with. It was the reality I had forced upon him.
“Did you know what you just did!?” Tao Long roared, his voice cracking with something deeper than anger. It was grief, raw and jagged.
I stared at him evenly, refusing to flinch. “I saved you.”
For a moment, he froze, as if the words had slapped him harder than his hands ever could. Then he released me, staggering backward, pacing the floor like a cornered beast. His once-proud robes hung in tatters, exposing scarred muscle and old wounds that had never been given the chance to heal. The tip of his spear, still razor-sharp, gleamed with crusted blood, the grime of too many battles fought without rest. He looked less like a noble cultivator of the Ward and more like a war ghost, clawing at the last scraps of meaning left to him.
“The Arch Gate exists so that this world may thrive!” he snapped, voice trembling as much as the storm outside.
I understood enough. The truth had long been carved into my mind, ever since I walked the corridors of Shouquan’s memories. The Arch Gate wasn’t merely a monument or a gateway for arrogant immortals dreaming of ascension. It was a lifeline. A passage bridging the Hollowed World and the Greater Universe. In the distant past, cultivators had stepped through it to ascend, climbing to greater heights beyond imagination. Yet its true purpose was far more crucial. It funneled providence from beyond, nourishing this fragile realm with qi and possibility. Without it, the Hollowed World would wither. The qi in the atmosphere would thin, cultivation ceilings would crumble, and the brilliance of our civilization could dim into ashes. This land might descend into stagnation, a hollow shadow of what it once was.
In other words, it could become another False Earth. Except here, there was no Supreme Void to play the part of god or tyrant. There would be no trickster manipulating destinies for its amusement. Just decline, slow and inevitable.
For me, the loss was not so unbearable. I had walked the False Earth and survived. I had clawed my way through nothingness and broken the chains of despair. Civilization would rise and then fall. Those were grand words for scholars and saints. To me, it was another problem in a long line of calamities. Another truth about the Arch Gate lingered at the edges of my thoughts: Shouquan had bound it as his personal treasure, refining it to anchor his cultivation. Its destruction might have struck at his very soul. Perhaps he was still alive, wandering, slumbering, or struggling in places unseen. But perhaps not. I couldn’t afford to care more than I already did. I was done with sentimentality, done with hesitation. If destiny had any mercy left, I would prefer Shouquan alive. Yet waiting for him, waiting for anyone, had become an indulgence I could no longer afford. The Heavenly Temple, the Empire, Jia Sen… The game was already too far gone.
“You just killed Master Shouquan!” Tao Long spat as he let me go, voice hoarse as his eyes filled with trembling light. The rain outside seemed to answer him, pouring harder.
“You don’t know that,” I replied, my tone calm, but carrying the weight of steel.
Tao Long’s eyes burned like smoldering embers as he snarled, “Where have you been after so long? Now, you make decisions for me?” His words struck with the weight of betrayal, each syllable laced with the storm still raging outside.
I brushed the dust from my robes where he had slammed me earlier and met his gaze without flinching. “I’ve been busy. Just so you know, not long ago, I came face to face with a Supreme Being… and I lived, Tao Long, I lived!” I let the declaration hang between us, daring him to understand. “Do you even know what a Supreme Being is?”
His expression faltered. For a brief moment, the anger in his eyes gave way to something else to confusion, doubt, and the stirring of reason beneath the tide of grief. His jaw tightened as he extended one hand, summoning the bloodstained spear lying against the wall. The weapon leapt back into his grip with a metallic hum, his aura flaring as if he intended to walk away. “I’m going,” he muttered, his voice rough but resolute.
“No, you don’t.” My tone cut sharper than his spear. I raised my hand, summoning the skill. “Compel Duel.” The invisible thread of authority latched onto him, a vow made manifest that would sap his strength should he attempt to flee from me. “We need to talk.”
“There’s nothing to talk about!” Tao Long spat, fury painting his words as his knuckles whitened on the shaft of his weapon.
“I understand your misgivings,” I said firmly, stepping closer, refusing to let him turn away. “Normally, I would give you space to gather your thoughts. But we are more than that, Tao Long. You are a dragon, and you know me. We must rise above our emotions and face the problem at hand. Shouquan is gone, and if we do nothing, we will be crushed under the tyrannical boot of the Heavenly Temple.”
At last, his eyes shifted, the tempest of rage slowly giving way to something steadier. His grip loosened on the spear, shoulders dropping slightly as calm threaded its way back into his presence.
Through the bond of the Animal Soul I had bestowed upon him, I felt the echoes of his thoughts, heavy and conflicted. He could have severed that connection long ago, could have cast aside my mark with the strength of his bloodline, yet he had not. That meant something… It meant he was still willing to hear me, still tethered to the path we shared, even if his pride refused to say it aloud.
I straightened, meeting him eye to eye, and ended the silence with words as heavy as iron. “Whether you like it or not, Shouquan entrusted me with Ward, your organization. And that ought to count for something.”
“Sit,” I commanded, the tone sharp enough to leave no room for protest.
Tao Long hesitated, but his legs carried him to the couch beside Alice. Her eyes narrowed, fingers twitching at her side as if itching for a blade. The killing intent radiating from her was unmistakable. For a moment, I almost forgot these two had their own history. I thought they had buried it, but the air between them still carried sparks of unspoken hostility.
I sank into the high-backed chair. Folding my hands together, I began. “First off… the Empire’s in trouble. Tao Long, they’re suffering a civil war right now.”
The color drained from his face, his pupils widening. “No,” he breathed, disbelief cracking his voice. “No, it can’t be!”
“I wish it weren’t true,” I said evenly. “Destroying the Arch Gate was a drastic choice, one with advantages and disadvantages. But I have weighed them in my heart, and I judged it better to rid ourselves of it now rather than let the Heavenly Temple seize it for their own designs. With the Gate gone, your burden is lifted… You’re no longer its guardian. That frees you to find the scattered members of Ward, to inform them of the changes in management and prepare them for what comes next. I want you to be my voice, Tao Long. After deliberating for so long, I’ve decided… I am going to take over Ward after all. And make no mistake…” My voice hardened, filling the chamber. “I will stand by Ward’s predecessor’s vision: to protect this world.”
Tao Long’s spear tilted on his lap as he leaned forward. His lips pressed into a thin line before he asked, “From Outsiders, you mean.”
“From itself,” I countered, my words landing with finality.
The room fell silent, save for the distant roll of thunder.
In truth, that had always been Shouquan’s design at its core: to preserve the essence of the Hollowed World, to keep it from devouring itself. But the Heavenly Temple had twisted those teachings into a narrow creed of “us versus them,” dividing worlds and mortals alike, a distortion that eventually birthed the Cleanse. They twisted Shouquan’s ideals a weapon, and the world bled for it.
I leaned forward, eyes locked with Tao Long’s, and asked one final time, my voice stripped of command and bared to earnestness. “Would you lend me your voice, Tao Long?”
Tao Long’s voice was steady, though the weight of his words pressed with the weight of steel. “You have my voice… and my spear. But I want you to understand, Da Wei, I have only one master… and that’s Master Shouquan.”
I inclined my head, accepting the condition. “Good. Then let’s talk business. How long do you think before the world begins to decline in spirituality with the Arch Gate gone?”
His brow furrowed, uncertainty darkening his features. “I can’t really tell. A hundred years, maybe a thousand. You’d need a specialist to make a proper assessment.”
I leaned back, letting that sink in. So not soon, at least. That was something.
Still, I pressed forward. “What do you think of becoming a Paladin? No strings attached. I have an Immortal Art that could elevate your prowess. I think you could use the power-up—”
He cut me off with a firm shake of his head. “I don’t know what a Paladin is, but no thanks. You bestowing me the favor of your guardian spirit is enough.”
Guardian spirit? That was a new one. My eyes narrowed. “What do you mean by that?”
Tao Long raised his hand and plucked something from deep within himself. At first it looked like a mote of golden light, but as it took shape, realization dawned on me. It was my Animal Soul. Yet he hadn’t invoked a spell, hadn’t uttered a word of command. Still, the soul emerged freely. Before my eyes, the light molded itself into the figure of a beast, its form settling with uncanny familiarity. A golden-furred dog stood there, tail wagging with almost comical dignity. A golden retriever, of all things.
So… that’s what my soul looked like through Tao Long’s bond.
In that moment, I realized I had been underestimating the rate at which my Six Souls were evolving. They were no longer mere fragments of power.
The dog barked at me, sharp and clear, as though mocking my surprise.